


Mixing Colors

by ejqz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bad poop jokes, F/M, Fluff, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, Other, Post-Time Skip, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27651794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejqz/pseuds/ejqz
Summary: Once upon a time, during a couple's paint night, you asked Miya Osamu, “What’ll happen if you mixed all the flavors together?”Now, he's ready to give you an answer. In the form of a proposal at his onigiri shop.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	Mixing Colors

All the lights in the shop are off except for the kitchen and the bar seating where you’re at. 

“Is it done yet?” you ask impatiently. 

“Aren’t you the patient one?” Osamu teases. “Here you go, have a try.”

Osamu presents you with an unnaturally fancy plate with a single rice ball wrapped in nori on top. The rice ball looks deceivingly normal and you’re not sure what new bizarre filling is inside. Osamu sometimes gets a bit too creative with his new creations. You end up being his little lab rat before it gets put onto the menu. Whatever is in this one, you’re convinced you probably had worse.

“Are you sure this is good?”

“Just try it. It’ll be interesting.” 

You take a small bite. The rice is normal, at least, nothing new. You take another bite, chewing through the filling a bit. That’s when you know what Osamu meant by ‘interesting’. The tip of your tongue makes contact first. It’s sweet. Red bean paste? Wait, no. It’s sour? Is that cherry? You chew and swallow, trying to determine exactly what flavor this concoction is. It’s bitter…oh my god is that goya? And something savory too? But in the end, it’s all washed away by the taste of bonito flakes. Oh gosh, it’s so gross. 

“What the hell is this Samu,” you cringe, setting the rice ball back onto the plate and looking for Osamu. “It’s so nasty. What did you mix together?” 

You don’t find him standing next to you. Instead, you find Miya Osamu on one knee. The lights from the bar only illuminate one half of his perfect face. Something’s happening and your brain is short-circuiting.

“When we first started dating, you took me to a couple’s paint night.” He reaches out and grasps your left hand. His calloused fingers caress and intertwine with yours. 

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” your voice wavers slightly, confused and anxious.

“Do you remember?” 

—-

“Samu, do you know what happens when you mix all the colors together?” you look at the paper plate with blobs of paint. You are already dragging the brush through each color, streaking them into one another. 

Osamu watches, half-interested. “It turns into shit. And you just wasted all of our paint. Now we can’t finish our painting.” 

The colors begin to turn into an uniform, even brown. 

“Told ya,” Samu takes the brush from your hands and throws the brown onto the canvas. The original landscape painting is immediately covered by a new blanket. 

“Hey, what are you doing?!” you whisper, glancing around the room. The other couples are still ultra attentive and working on their paintings. Why is the love child of you and Osamu turning into a dirt scape? 

“I dun wanna waste paint. This is a new abstract style,” Osamu replies nonchalantly, continuing to cover the painting. 

“It looks like shit! I can’t believe this is what all the pretty colors turn into.” 

“Whatever, as long as we know what it’s actually made up of, that’s fine.” 

“Of what?”

“Pretty colors. Only we need to know what it means, right?” 

You sigh. Well, it is what is then. You take what was originally Osamu’s brush and cover the entire canvas with the brown. Yellow for joy. Blue for calmness. Red for passion. Green for abundance. Orange for playfulness. Purple for magic. Altogether, it is the earth. 

“What’ll happen if you mixed all the flavors together?” you ask, looking at the pair of paintbrushes traversing across the earthen painting. 

The chef answers. “Actual shit.” 

—-

The two of you ended up leaving the event early, canvas in tow. A few “what the hell is that” and “lol” were heard in the background, but whatever. That brown canvas is still hanging in the bathroom. Moderne. 

“No shit I remember,” you whisper and chuckle. “The piece of crap is still hanging over our toilet.” 

Osamu chuckles with you and for a second, the moment just seems a bit stupid and absurd. He swings your hand slightly.

“Did you like how all the flavors taste together?” 

You shake your head, “tastes like shit.” 

“I assure you, you haven’t tried actual poop,” Osamu remarks. You shove his shoulders slightly with your other hand and Osamu grasps it, bringing both of your hands into his own. 

“Sweetness,” he begins, locking eyes with yours. “The first sensation off the tip of your tongue. That’s how I feel waking up with you every morning. Sourness, next, for the times we jab at each other.” 

Osamu continues rubbing slow circles over your hands. 

“Savoriness, for all the time we spend together, just being together. Bitterness, unpleasant, but necessary, for all the challenges we overcome together.”

Osamu raises your hands and presses his lips to the knuckles. 

“And finally, umami, to bind it all together. I’m telling you, we’re just a bucket of crazy together. Each moment, every flavor, they make up my dreams of a shared life with you. I love you, will you marry me?” 

You shut your eyes, feeling tears fall through your lashes. You nod furiously and manage to squeak out an off-tune ‘yes’. When you pull your hands away to rub your tears away, you notice a ring slipped onto your finger already. When that actually happened, you have no idea. Your mind is still completely blank and trying to grasp if the moment is part of your dreams or reality. Osamu pulls you into a warm embrace and gives you a kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers before kissing you again. “Thank you.”

“I swear, Samu,” you murmur in between kisses. “This shitty onigiri will send me to the toilet soon. Shit’s not going to be good. And I’ll stare at that horrible painting.” 

Osamu laughs, “at least the ring isn’t in the onigiri! Tsumu suggested that and I shot it down.” 

You sniffle and join his laughter, pulling him close once more. The flavors swirl between the two of you and eventually fade away. Only happiness remains in the dimly lit shop. The two of you end up finishing the bizarre creation of a rice ball, on the grounds of not wasting food. You’re not sure why, but it seems to taste a lot better when sharing it with someone else.

“I love you too Samu.”


End file.
